


Come and See

by MoMoMomma



Series: Kinktober 2018 [10]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Telepathic Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-29 01:50:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16254227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoMoMomma/pseuds/MoMoMomma
Summary: Rook wondered, as kids do. What was his soulmate like? Why were their emotions a jumbled up ball of hurt and pain more often than not? Would he ever meet them?





	Come and See

Rook was always a fussy baby. His mom loves to tell stories, even now, of walking the floor with him at night while he cried. They’d run every test they could think of, tried swaddling and pressure and everything any parenting book advised. Eventually, she told him when he got older and would collapse against her, exhausted from a day that was nothing but normal, a doctor had quietly pulled her aside. Told her that he might have an older soulmate, one that might not have the easy sort of life the Wylde homestead provided. 

From then, it became less about fixing his problems and more about comforting him. 

Rook wondered, as kids do. What was his soulmate like? Why were their emotions a jumbled up ball of hurt and pain more often than not? Would he ever meet them?

He pushes it aside for the most part, content to let his life flow as it wishes. There are occasions when there’s a whisper in the back of his mind, a quiet question with words or emotions. Soft and gentle when he’s going through his first real heartbreak and viciously violent when he runs into a group of military boys who aren’t so alright with his sexuality. 

Rook reaches out too, carefully pushing against the bond. When he wakes up in a panic, feeling like his heart is shattering in his chest. When he stops dead in the middle of running from cot to cot, blood in his nose and a strangely blooming warmth of happiness in his belly. When he decides not to re-enlist, hearing the echo of a proclamation in his brain.

_”Come and see.”_

He spreads out a map in his shitty apartment afterwards, eyes scanning. Traces a line along highways and state lines. He pushes, softly questioning.

_Where? Where do you want me?_

It seems almost too on the nose to look in Hope. To find what he’s always been looking for in Hope. But his finger is dragged there, landing atop the town name with a sense of satisfaction singing in his blood. The quiet whisper of “come and see” still in his ears. 

He reaches out that night in a way he so rarely has. Done once or twice when he was a teenager, all frantic energy and hormones coiled up inside him and itching for a release. Pushes against the bond with one hand around his cock and the other spread across his stomach, like he could reach and touch the sense of right that’s been in his veins since he traced highways and state lines with his fingertip.

The voice reaches back, soft and encouraging. It’s been vicious before, like it disapproved, but this is gentle. Whispering unintelligible words of encouragement, the phantom stroke of hands that are not his on his skin. He thinks, briefly, that his soulmate must be doing the same thing somewhere. Pleasure shared and amplified until Rook’s clawing his sheets off the bed and coming across his stomach with a whine. 

There’s a ringing in his ears afterwards, a happiness that isn’t his own stretching across the bond. Like he finally did what his soulmate wanted and the giddy feeling in his chest, in his bones, is a reward for that.

_”Come and see.”_

Rook doesn’t know what he’s doing. There’s a manic sort of rush when he touches down in Hope County. He goes to the only place he thinks he might be useful, a Sheriff’s station filled to the brim with exhausted eyes and slumped shoulders. There’s something wicked in Hope County and, according to the Marshal who’d stormed in moments after Rook had signed the papers and been waved away to get his uniform, it’s all coming to a head. 

Tonight. His first night on the job, not so much wet behind the ears as absolutely soaked. And a ringing in his chest and ears that isn’t at all from the helicopter ride. Joseph Seed is not a man to be fucked with, clearly, given the blood staining his hands and the way the Sheriff is still trying, even as they approach the compound, to call the whole thing off.

But there’s something about him. Something curiously close to a feeling of home. Something that makes Rook’s gut clench tight and bloom curiously warm as they approach the church.

_”Come and see.”_

Joseph’s voice is familiar in his ears, above the ringing, when they stride up the aisle. There’s something vibrating in the air, more than the bloodlust barely beneath the surface as the Marshal loses his temper. But Joseph isn’t paying him any mind. 

No, he’s staring at Rook. Jaw a bit slack, eyes shock wide instead of mania frantic. The Marshal is still making orders, snapping hot, but the cultists in front of Joseph aren’t budging.

Until they are.

Until Joseph is laying hands on their shoulders, stepping between them, crossing to Rook. He sees the Sheriff’s hand fall to his side, not quite touching his weapon just yet but tempted. Watching and waiting, just like the three people who crowd around the pulpit behind Joseph’s shoulders.

“I am so sorry.” Joseph breathes, cupping his cheeks, drawing him in. “You are so much younger than I thought. How you must have suffered…”

“You suffered worse.” Rook reminds him softly, hands rising to land on warm skin, his wrist and his chest. 

He knows how badly each sin marked into Joseph’s flesh hurt. Knows how he writhed in bed, in a cot on the other side of the world, clawing at his clothes to try and alleviate the ache. Remembers Joseph’s apologies, gentle and insistent and _hurt._

_”I have to, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”_

“Father--” One of the cultists speaks and it seems to break Joseph’s focus for a moment. 

He turns, one hand falling to Rook’s shoulder, keeping him in close as he waves the other. Proclaims loud enough that everyone in the church can hear it. 

“My children, I have been given a gift. God has sent a reward for my faith, for all of us. We have changed what was to be. The White Horse did not bring hell...he brought hope.” He glances back, softer, but there’s something on fire in his eyes. “This is my soulmate. The other part of me that has suffered alongside me all these years.”

“Rook,” he offers weakly in the fact of dozens of eyes suddenly on him. “My name is Rook.”

“And you are a _goddamn_ Sheriff’s Deputy!” The Marshal all but screeches, gun out of his holster now. “You will do your _fucking_ job and cuff this sonofabitch.”

“He won’t.” The Sheriff shakes his head, a curiously defeated slump to his shoulders as he glances at Rook. “Your warrant’s voided, Marshal. You brought the perp’s soulmate to the fucking arrest. Rook can’t legally serve him, can’t be involved. You’re going to have to come back.”

“Then _you_ put the cuffs on him!”

“No.” The Sheriff starts towards the doors as the Marshal starts slinging threats, stopping to place a hand on his bicep. Below Joseph’s, careful not to let the two touch. “You alright, Rook? You...you want this?”

“I don’t know how to want anything else.”

It isn’t an answer and the Sheriff knows that. There’s pity in his eyes and he makes a soft noise, like he understands but can’t find the words to explain that. 

“You know where to find me. Anytime.” 

Rook nods around the lump in his throat, rocks to the side when the Marshal body-checks him on the way past, stomping after the Sheriff towards the doors of the church. They close too loud in the silence, too sharp on Hudson’s panicked “where’s Rook? Sheriff? _Earl!_ ” Rook can’t meet the eyes of the cultists, too curious, looking at him like he’s something more than what he is.

He looks at Joseph instead. Carefully surveys the man whose pain he’s lived with all his life, whose thoughts and emotions have guided him. He doesn’t know what to say, though Joseph seems to be waiting for it. His mouth opens and closes a few times, before Rook offers up a broken sort of smile.

“I didn’t think you had blue eyes.”

Joseph laughs, a soft and rich sort of sound, as he brings his hands back to their places on Rook’s cheeks. Tugs him in until their foreheads are touching and they’re sharing the same breath. 

“You will learn everything about me. And I will learn about you. You have come _home_ , my love. You are where you were always supposed to be; at my side.”

“The video--”

“I will explain everything.” Joseph says softly, one thumb under his chin to tip it up as he shifts back. “Our purpose. Our mission. You will know and you will understand what has been done, what had to be done.”

“The Marshal is going to come for you. He won’t stop.”

“Let him come.” Joseph whirls, grabs his wrist and tugs Rook through the cultists, some of whom reach out with shaking hands and wide eyes to brush up against him. Like he’s some superstar...or prophet. “Let him come! He will gain no ground here. We are whole, we are a _family_ now. And _nothing_ will destroy what we have built.”

Rook grins despite himself, despite the fear curling acrid sick in the back of his throat. It’s impossible not to, with Joseph’s joy and rapturous wonder spilling through their bond. With the pleased little smile, a sharply dressed man wears as he offers up his hand, sunglasses flashing in the candlelight. With the way a woman in white throws her arms around him the second he’s close enough, murmuring something cheerful and welcoming against his chest.

With the way a man in an Army jacket inclines his head, Joseph’s pride bursting so bright it almost makes his vision go. 

He knows this is Joseph’s family, can feel the affection coursing through his veins as he meets their eyes. As Joseph tucks into his side, links their fingers, rosary beads biting into the meat of his sweating palm. 

And now, he supposes, it’s his family too.

**Author's Note:**

> Wanna see what's coming up next for this month? Check out [this post](http://momomomma2.tumblr.com/post/178633371556/happy-kinktober) on my Tumblr!


End file.
